


With

by childWithissues



Category: school - Fandom
Genre: "hurtful eyes" wtf???, Alex - Freeform, Ann - Freeform, Don't Judge, F/F, I don't know, I'm new here, No Angst, Realization, Soulmarks, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, anyway, bamm!!, but it's a school ship so eh??, done!!!, females, gaaaAAAY, i don't fucking know, i dunno anything, i just realized i tag to much XD huh, idk - Freeform, no fluff either????, okay, shut up, so this is like, ssssshhhhhhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:27:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childWithissues/pseuds/childWithissues
Summary: With hurtful, and broken trust, I look at you and you're enough.With caring words, and stitched up love, you look at me and say "You're enough."





	

**Author's Note:**

> okay! this is my first publication on here and online ever, so if it's not good please keep that in mind! this ship contains, two females. yes, it's F/F. anyway, this is a thing i wrote a few months back. and uh, it's nothing really. anyway, if you're reading this, thanks for giving this a try. it may not be good, and that's because writing isn't a thing i do often, but i really do wanna get better. sorry for taking away your time, please read on, and don't be afraid to give some advice. (it's supposed to be short and sorta vague)

I look at her, “Show me your tattoo.” She nods and pulls her sleeve down.

 

It’s a heart with a few stitches on it.

 

Her eyes widen, “It wasn’t like that before.” she says, rubbing her forearm. 

 

“What do you mean?” I ask, scratching my mark.

 

“It wasn’t stitched. It was a broken and bleeding heart.”

 

She looks at my cheek, “Hey, didn’t yours not have a thread?” She asks.

 

I look at her confused, “Yeah, why?”

 

All she says is, “It does now.”

 

She hands me a mirror and she was right. It used to be just a needle, but now it has a long thread, spelling out one words. “With." 

 

I pull her arm to me, and the stitches spelled out “Love.”

 

Slowly pulling the pieces together, I look at her.

 

She looks at me.

 

“With.” I say, and her reply is “Love.”

 

A new stitch is made, and the thread gets a little bit longer.


End file.
